The type 14 Shuttlecraft Carneigie slowed its approach to the small docking port on the starboard side of C221 before it gracefully turned 180 degrees and reversed to connect to the port. In the cabin Lieutenant Commander Isabella Broska, Lieutenant JG Rutledge, Dr. Mottle and the medic and security teams felt a soft jolt followed by a hissing noise as the connection was made.

While the shuttle was made to handle up to 16 people with relative ease but when you added the bulk of the EV suits it was downright claustrophobic with the 9 people that currently occupied it. 

“Allright, we’re going to divide and conquer as best we can.” Isabella’s helmet sealed with a quiet hiss. “Dr. Mottle and I will head to Deck A to try and shut down the damping fields and Rutledge will head to Deck B to search for survivors. Security and Medics will split and go with each team. We are going in blind and it’s clear something has happened. Phasers on stun and if we fail to bring down the damping fields we meet back here in 25 minutes, no expectations.”

A chorus of Aye, Ma’am’s rang out from the assembled staff. Isabella turned and tapped a code into the panel next to the docking port, commanding the shuttle door to open. With phasers in hand then 9 officers stepped forward into the docking port holding area. The shuttle door sealed with a hiss and moments later the inner door of C221’s docking port opened.

Mottle stepped forward, tricorder in hand. The man was cautious by nature but circumstances dictate that he lead the change. The lights were dimmed and the ones still operating flickered in a way that sent a tingle of unease down the spine. Emergency beacons on the wall cast a soft red glow; enough to turn a tingle of unease into outright fear. Mottle’s tricorder let out a series of harsh beeps; red flashing across the screen.

“The air isn’t safe. The tricorder isn’t able to determine what the toxic substance is that is in the air but it’s enough to kill most carbon based life in minutes.”

“Let’s avoid that.” Isabella motioned to the left, down a halfway that sloped downward. “That’ll take you to Deck B. Remember Lieutenant, back here in 25 minutes if you don’t hear from anyone.”

The young man nodded. “Aye ma’am.” He turned to a few of the security officers and a medic. “With me, let’s go.”

The group headed down the corridor as Isabella turned to the opposite corridor, which sloped upward. “Let’s move out.”

The group made its way down the corridor, silent except for their footfalls. It didn’t take long to find the first signs of a fight. Two men, a Vulcan and a Human, lay dead right before the corridor curved to the left. Scorch marks lined the walls of the corridor; there were easily over a dozen. Isabella recognized what type of weapon made the marks without even bothering to run a scan.

“Those are Federation phaser marks. See distribution pattern of the damage? It came from the direction of those two men.” She glanced around. THere wasn’t a single mark that looked like it came from the Vaaduwar. “This was pretty one-sided. They must have taken them down with extreme precision.”

Mottle had taken a few steps closer, leaning down to close the eyes of the deceased. “What could warrant attacking a research station filled with civilians? They weren’t a threat.”

“I’m starting to think that the Vaaduwar don’t really care about that. They’re are here to destroy and conquer.” Izzie looked around the bend of the corridor. It was clear. “We need to keep moving. We can shut down the inhibitors in the command center and get everyone out of here.”

As small as the station was it wasn’t going to take long to reach the command center but as they rounded each bend of a corridor or stopped to peek in a room they just saw more death along the way. What had marched through the corridors of C221 cared nothing for life. There was no remorse. No sympathy. No humanity. Just an unknown singular purpose that left nothing but senseless death in its wake.

“The command center is up through here.” Izzy stepped around one last bend in the corridor and came face to face with a sealed door. “Damn it.” She muttered. She glanced at the display on her EV suit arm. 17 minutes before they needed to head back. She turned to face the rest of her team. “Step back.”

She took a few steps back herself while adjusting her phaser to a higher setting. She pointed it at the door controls and fired off three bolts of energy. It was enough to blow a large hole in the wall, taking out the door controls. The door itself unlocked with a thud before sliding open with a hiss. 

Isabella took two steps into the large room before stopping. As she surveyed the room her blood ran cold; feet firmly planted to the ground as if her body forgot how to move them. “Dear God.” She muttered. There were seven bodies in the room; all of which were contorted and placed in locations and positions that were unnatural. Blood marked the floor, the ceiling, the walls. 

Mottle and a few of the medics cautiously and softly walked around Isabella and towards the bodies. He ran his medical tricorder over the body, soft trills and beeps providing few answers.

“They were killed by the same weapons as the people in the corridors. The.” he paused, trying to find the words. “Rest was done post mortem; likely two or three hours later.”

Isabella walked over to the main console. She had heard Mottle’s report but her mind had one focus: getting the hell off C221. She looked over the readings the console was putting out before quickly tapping in the override codes Starfleet provided. The console flashed a small hourglass figure before flashing a giant red X along with ACCESS DENIED.

“Fuck it.” She muttered. She turned to face the long row of data banks that ran along the wall behind the command console. She’d seen these before; during her cadet cruise the ship she was posted to help repair an old Regula Class base. They should control most of the primary systems.

She raised her phaser and paused to shout out a warning before unleashing a series of bolts along the data banks. A series of sparks and small electrical fires burst forth from the banks before the lights on the station went to black. She, and the rest of the away team, stood in the dark room; sparks and small electrical fires illuminating their surroundings. In what was only moments but what seemed like hours, the emergency lighting fully kicked in. The room was dim, along with the rest of the station, but someone could still navigate around.

Isabella tapped her combadge. “Broska to Ruthlidge, can you hear me?”

“Affirmative ma’am.”

“Status report.” She made her way around the console, ready to move out the door.

“We’ve found the survivors locked in a subdeck that seemed to be left off the official schematics. Seven of the eight are conscious; the station administrator appears injured.” he paused for a moment. “There is stuff down here beyond my paygrade Commander but.” Another pause. “I don’t quite have the words. Whatever was going on here was not following any sort of Starfleet rules and I recommend we quarantine the survivors; they aren’t acting normally.”

Isabella rubbed her face. “Noted. There is a little shop of horrors up here; I agree with your assessment. I’ll contact the ship and arrange for beam out. If there is any equipment that needs investigation then tag it with a transporter tag.”

“Yes ma’am”

Broska tapped her combadge again. “Broska to Resnik. Do you read me?”

“Loud and clear Commander. Status.”

“We have the survivors. Beam them to quarantine chambers in sickbay. Rutledge is tagging equipment to beam over; it’ll need to go into quarantine as well. Something beyond the Vauduwaar happened over here.”

There was a brief pause before Aakon came back on the line. “Noted. Are you ready to beam back?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good because we have company.”

[Bridge]

Aakon looked at the viewscreen as it shifted to show the empty patch of space to the port of C221. 3 large Underspace apertures had opened; golden and angry as 6 ships of various sizes slowly lumbered though.

“Red alert! All hands to battlestations!”